What Happened to Jane
by hahatdog
Summary: After a missing woman, named Jane Roberts, from eighteen years ago resurfaces, new Auror trainee Harry Potter must locate and find out what happened to Jane, the only Muggle-born Death Eater ever known. Along with Draco Malfoy, the only Death Eater from the War left standing, the two of them will find out the fate the Wizarding world is facing - and how Jane is the cause of it all.


"Potter."

Harry Potter raised his head from the map of Britain he had been poring over, his overgrown hair falling in front of his eyes. He quickly brushed his fringe just to see Senior Auror Hannah Watanabe looking sternly at him, her hands placed on her slender hips.

Harry straightened and adjusted his blue Auror trainee robes. "Yes, ma'am?"

"The Minister wishes to speak with you," she replied curtly. She glared at the person on Harry's side. "Weasley, are you eavesdropping?"

Ron Weasley, Harry's best mate, turned a bright shade of red, almost like a strawberry because of his numerous freckles. Harry shot him a look with his green eyes and Ron narrowed his blue ones, which matched the color of their robes.

"No, ma'am," stammered Ron, who promptly sank to a wooden chair and pulled the map with him to examine it further.

"Why is Kingsley asking for me?" asked Harry, who stepped outside his and Ron's shared cubicle. He stood beside Watanabe, who was at least three inches taller than him. "Am I in trouble?"

"Potter, you're barely two weeks into training," Watanabe huffed impatiently. "You're not in trouble. Yet. Now, come on. The Minister hates tardiness."

"Alright," Harry muttered, bustling after her outside the Aurors Headquarters.

"And Potter?" added Watanabe as they exited to the corridor.

"Yes?"

"Please do address the Minister formally," Watanabe said coldly.

Harry frowned but didn't say anything. He was used to calling Kingsley Shackebolt, the newly appointed Minister of Magic, by his first name, since they were both in the Order of the Phoenix, but Watanabe obviously didn't like that Harry and Kingsley were on first name basis.

_Jealous, maybe__? _Harry thought as he swerved through the throng of Ministry employees on the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, training his eyes on Watanabe's pin straight black hair and swishing scarlet robes.

Harry knew that Hannah Watanabe was only five years older than him and had only recently became an Auror, but he heard that she finished training early and rose to the ranks faster than anyone could say Quidditch. Harry also found her extremely overbearing, like a mixture of Professor Minerva McGonagall and Severus Snape, only without McGonagall's kindness and Snape's sneer.

Ron told described her as his mother, only worse, Harry recalled. He didn't really want to speak ill of his Auror trainor, one who displayed powerful amounts of magic, but he didn't like how she glared at every one of them at training and how she seemed indifferent to the progress they had made.

_At least she's not hero-worshipping me. _

After the Battle of Hogwarts, Harry, along with Ron, immediately signed up for Auror training, much to Hermione Granger's and Mrs Weasley's dismay. As soon as two of them were fitted with their blue robes and were sent to the Ministry to train, all of the wizards and witches they met either cried in joy or gawked at them like they were growing extra limbs out of their foreheads.

It was happening now, just as Harry was walking down the corridor with his head bowed towards the golden-grilled lift. He could feel his neck heat up, the stares of the other Ministry employees burning -

"Potter!" called Watanabe's distant voice.

Harry lifted his gaze and saw her standing in front of the shining doors, her expression stern.

"Hurry up!" she demanded as the doors opened, a stream of harried wizards exiting the lift.

Harry practically broke into a run and bounded inside the lift. The doors clanged shut as soon as he entered. Watanabe glared at him with her narrow brown eyes. "It's not the time for reflection, Potter. We're heading to the most important person in the building."

Harry couldn't help but feel annoyed. "Why d'you have to escort me? I can go to the Minister's office on my own."

The corner of Watanabe's lips raised to a condescending smile. "Do you now?"

Harry whirled to her, blood boiling. "Why do you hate me?"

"I don't hate you, Potter, I'm just not treating you like a celebrity," Watanabe replied coolly. "If you wanted to be treated like your someone's poodle, then you should have primped yourself up and became a brainless piece of crap like Gilderoy Lockhart."

Harry opened his mouth but didn't say anything. He fidgeted with his thumbs, glowering at Watanabe's back. The woman just stared forward, her gaze glacial.

"We're on official Ministry business and you're acting like a child, Potter," Watanabe continued. "Compose yourself. I don't want the Minister to think that I'm training impertinent brats like you."

The grilles slid open, revealing an empty hallway before them, save for Mafalda Hopkirk, who was hobbling towards the lift.

Harry and Watanabe stepped outside the lift, with the latter saying, "Good afternoon, Mafalda."

The older witch smiled at Watanabe and answered, "Alright. Just a little busy." She turned to Harry. "Oh, of course. Harry Potter, an Auror. I assure that you're in good hands. Hannah is a wonderful Auror. Very charming, too."

Harry stared blankly at Mafalda, who had entered the lift and started to descend, the grilles rattling. Watanabe_, charming? _

_She's almost as charming as a one-legged troll. _

"I can practically hear your thoughts, Potter," Watanabe snapped, placing firm fingers on Harry's shoulder and dragging him across the purple-carpeted floor.

"Are you a Legilimens?"

"No, I'm just aware that you dislike me," Watanabe answered, tightening her grip. Harry was sure that her fingers would leave bruises.

"You can just show me the way, you know," Harry grumbled as they walked pass the gleaming hall. Even the doors were shiny.

"I am showing you the way."

"Can you do that without tearing my fucking arm off?"

"Language," scolded Watanabe, although she did loosen her hold on the boy.

Watanabe halted at the front of the door at the end of the hallway, with a bronze plaque attached on the wall.

**Kingsley Shacklebolt**

**Minister of Magic**

Watanabe let of Harry, making the other wince. She rapped at the door three times.

"Come in," said a deep voice from inside the room.

Watanabe gave Harry a sharp look that could be interpreted _don't fuck this up_ and wrenched the door open.

Harry hadn't been inside the Minister's office before, but this was magnificent. It was large, with magical paintings and portraits hung on the wall and a huge window that reflects the weather in London. It was a warm, summer day, with sunlight pouring through the glasspanes. Tall bookshelves lined a whole wall of the room, filled with both magical and Muggle tombs. There was a magnificent brick fireplace, cozy velvet couches, and a thick rug that absorbed every step of Harry's shoe.

But the most welcoming sight of all was the Minister of Magic himself, sitting behind a large wooden desk and was smiling at Harry like he was a proud father.

"Good afternoon, Harry. Hannah."

"'Afternoon, Kingsley," Harry said casually, giving Watanabe a snide look.

Watanabe caught Harry's expression yet plastered a wide smile on her face. "Good afrernoon, Mister Shacklebolt."

"Please, the two of you, take a seat," Kingsley said as he gestured on the chairs in front of his mahogany desk.

Harry sat down on the right while Watanabe perched herself on the other.

"May I ask why you requested Potter to be pulled out from his training this afternoon?" asked Watanabe politely.

Kingsley beamed. "I knew you were going to ask that question. We just wanted something to discuss with Harry, something important. Then, he'll be on his way."

"Excuse me," Harry interjected, "we?"

"Professor McGonagall will be joining us later," Kingsley replied. "She's - oh, look, there she is."

Kingsley pointed at the fireplace, where bright emerald flames appeared and a witch suddenly slid down, her robes and glasses covered with soot and her hat lopsided.

Professor Minerva McGonagall straightened and quickly cast a nonverbal spell over her clothes to clean them. She looked the same as Harry remembered her, only with greyer hair and a more wrinkled face. The square spectacles, thin lips and severe expression never changed, though.

"Professor," said Watanabe immediately upon seeing the teacher. She sprung to her feet and offered her seat to the older woman.

"Thank you, but there is no need, Hannah," McGonagall said tersely. "Good afternoon, Harry, Kingsley, Hannah. I hope I didn't keep you three waiting."

"Er, not really," answered Harry. "I just got here."

"Why were you late, though, Minerva?" asked Kingsley. "You're never late."

"Ginny Weasley," Professor McGonagall replied, sighing. "Said she didn't want to become Quidditch Captain. I said that she can't do anything about it. The girl literally stormed to me at Leaky Cauldron and protested while clutching her letter. You know the girl, she's persistent. Harry, are you okay? You're turning pale."

Harry gulped and shook his head, running a nervous hand through his hair. Any mention of Ginny and he was reduced to a sweaty mess. Their breakup wasn't that messy, per se, but there was a lot of crying and cursing involved.

"Yeah, I'm fine," he said offhandedly. "What's the thing you wanted to talk about?"

Professor McGonagall's expression turned grave. She gave a light nudge to the Minister, who jolted and pulled out a folder from his drawer.

"A woman named Jane Roberts was reported missing eighteen years from now," Kingsley said in his deep, authoritative voice,"and now, reports have revealed that she's still alive."

Kingsley slid over the folder to Harry, who immediately opened it. Inside was a picture of a young woman who looked the same age as him, with long flowing dark hair, wide brown eyes and olive skin. She was glaring at the camera, like she hated having her picture taken. There was also a database attached to it, stating her full name, current age and other information about her.

"And," Harry started, raising his eyebrows, "why am I involved in this?"

Kingsley looked at the professor as though asking for help in answering Harry's question. McGonagall responded with a hard stare. Kingsley sighed and grabbed the file, flipping through it.

"She was a Death Eater, Harry," Kingsley said as he riffled through the pages. "And the most strange of all, she was Muggle-born."

Harry was taken aback. He gaped at the Minister. "She's a Muggle-born yet joined the Death Eaters?"

"Harry, we're just as confused as you when we heard it," said McGonagall. "I taught Roberts myself. Bright student. Brilliant. Built up a reputation as dark and manipulative and an excellent Quidditch player of the Slytherin team."

"And she's a _Slytherin_ as well?" said Watanabe suddenly, her expression puzzled.

"I thought you were Sorted into Slytherin," Harry remarked.

Watanabe looked like she was fighting the urge to roll her eyes. "Yes, and that just means that her House would just eat her alive."

"That's why Jane relied on her knowledge of Dark magic and her nature to control people," Kingsley said. "Her schoolmates told me she was hated by the Slytherins because she was a Muggle-born witch. She was hated by the rest of the school because she was a Slytherin. For years she kept herself in a small bubble until she realized the power she possessed. That's probably why she joined the Death Eaters. Under pretense, of course."

"What do you mean 'under pretense'?" Harry asked.

"She pretended to be Regulus Black's cousin," answered McGonagall. "They were in the same year and joined the Death Eaters around the same time."

Immediately, Harry grabbed the folder again and found Jane's birthday. She was born in the same year Regulus was and there were pictures of them together in their late teens.

"There were rumors that the two of them were romantically involved," added McGonagall, catching Harry staring at their picture together, with Jane's arm thrown over Regulus' shoulder.

Harry had to admit: they were a good-looking couple. Jane had high cheekbones and a cold stare that was dangerously beautiful and Regulus was nearly as handsome as his brother, although his eyes were duller and his smile less mischievous.

His eyes drifted to a date near the end of Jane's data. "She went missing a couple of days after Regulus died?"

"We believe that the two are linked," Kingsley said seriously. "If the two of them were really in a relationship and Regulus was Jane's reason in joining the Death Eaters, then she might also be involved in him attempting to destroy the Horcrux. That's why she was rumored to be dead. Killed, even, by the Dark Lord's most evil followers. That's why we were surprised when we saw this."

Kingsley pulled out a picture from the folder and placed it gingerly in front of Harry. There was a man with sandy hair leaning against another with dark skin, both smiling sweetly in the camera. The Eiffel Tower loomed behind them, with people milling around the two of them. Harry recognized the two of them as Seamus Finnigan and Dean Thomas, his roommates back in Hogwarts. There wasn't inherently weird about the picture, just the fact that it doesn't move like the rest of the images in the Wizarding world.

"Finnigan and Thomas went to France for vacation this summer," McGonagall explained. "They sent this picture to Neville Longbottom. When I visited their home for a cup of tea with Augusta, Longbottom showed me this picture. Maybe just to update me what your classmates been up to this summer. Upon further investigation, however, I noticed something peculiar."

The professor prodded a finger to a face on the right side of Dean's face. It was unmistakeably an older, gaunter Jane Roberts. Her cheekbones were sharper and her face lost its softness, but the woman looked exactly like her. She moved past in a hurry, her face half-obscured by the hood of the coat she was wearing, which was strange since it was warmer than Merlin's balls outside.

Harry frowned, raising his head to stare at both McGonagall and Kingsley. "And? Why am I here?"

McGonagall huffed, her nostrils flaring. "Potter," she started in a cold tone, "you need to track down Jane Roberts and bring her here."

"I'm sorry?" asked Harry, confused. He stood up, his brows knitting together. "I - I don't - I'm not even an Auror yet!"

"You already proved yourself to be an accomplished wizard, Harry," Kingsley reasoned. "You killed Voldemort for Merlin's sake! And besides, being an Auror is like just having another medal out of your other achievements."

"Excuse me," interrupted Watanabe, whose eyes were burning as she stood up from her seat. "Harry Potter is an excellent wizard, I agree, but don't we need someone in a higher position to locate Jane Roberts?"

"Hannah, you're motives are well-recieved," Kingsley said, "but in handling Dark wizards and witches, Harry is more experienced. I am not discrediting what you and the rest of the Aurors have done, but Harry has skills and the tools and the knowledge to get the job done. But, I assure you, you are first in line in Harry's backup."

"Kingsley, Professor," Harry pleaded, sweat dripping from his forehead, "Senior Auror Watanabe is right. I can't - I don't - "

"Harry, you're underestimating yourself - "

"I had Hermione and Ron during that whole year," Harry reasoned, "I didn't do it alone, okay? I had help. Now, I have none. I don't have good skills either. It was just luck on my side the whole time. I just got lucky. I don't know if my luck will work this time, though."

"Harry," McGonagall replied, "you're not going to be alone. You're going to have help on your side. Watanabe will be your ears here in London. We will periodically send Aurors discreetly to help you whenever you need help. You are just the one who has to carry this all out. We know you can do it, Harry."

"No, I'm sorry," Harry protested. He gazed pleadingly to his old professor. "Besides, I don't even know something about Jane or anything about her deal. I don't know anything about the workings of Voldemort's inner circle."

Kingsley looked knowingly at McGonagall. "Er - yes, we were just getting to that?"

"What d'you mean?"

"We enlisted the help of an ex-Death Eater, someone who can accompany you on your - "

"No," Watanabe interjected loudly. "I will not let Harry Potter be on a trip with a criminal. Do you want him be back on the end of his mission dead?"

_Maybe Watanabe isn't so bad, after all_, Harry wondered as he saw his trainor slam her hands on the Minister of Magic's desk.

Kingsley didn't flinch, however. "I have complete trust in this person, Hannah. I assure you, he will not harm Harry."

Harry crossed his arms over his chest. "Let's assume Harry as agreed to go in this mission. Who's this Death Eater we're talking about, anyway?"

"Draco Malfoy."

Harry's jaw dropped. His heart sank into his stomach and his blood boiled with fury.

"Are you fucking kidding me?"

No one even bothered to point out Harry's choice of words. Harry grunted noises of frustation and tugged at the roots of his hair, pacing back and forth on the office.

"Can't you find other people to help?"

"The other Death Eaters are dead or locked up in Azkaban. Narcissa Malfoy and Gregory Goyle are both in St. Mungo's. The only hope we have is Draco Malfoy," answered Kingsley calmly.

"Wait," said Watanabe, "isn't the Malfoy boy still not declared innocent?"

"Tomorrow's his trial," McGonagall informed the three of them, "but we can assure that he will be declared not guilty. We know he was manipulated to join the Death Eaters."

"Professor," Harry begged, "please. I can't work with Draco Malfoy."

"You have to, Harry. Jane Roberts is a powerful witch. As powerful as Voldemort, perhaps. We need to know why she's hiding and what she's up to. The new future of the Wizarding world is in your hands, Harry."

That set the boy up. Years of pent-up frustation suddenly boiled up inside him. He can only see red and his whole body was scorching with anger. "I'm tired of being the one who should save the Wizarding world! You know what? I'm done with this shit! You pull up this to me, knowing that I'll agree, because who the fuck am I to refuse, am I right? Well, fuck you all and fuck the whole fucking world. I don't fucking care. That's it. I'm out of here."

And with that, the eighteen-year-old stormed outside of the office, much to the surprise of the rest of the room.

"Looks like Harry's harder to convince than Draco," muttered Kingsley as the breeze shut the door.

"Minister," said Watanabe timidly, "do you think that Jane Robert's dangerous?"

"I sure hope she's not," murmured the Minister. "If Harry won't save us, who will?"


End file.
